


4– Remember the Sabbath Day, To Keep It Holy

by blackazuresoul



Series: Covenant [4]
Category: Trinity Blood
Genre: Gen, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackazuresoul/pseuds/blackazuresoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: The Ten Commandments– laws or guidelines?</p>
<p>A/N: Obvious religious overtones and some liberties were taken with the interpretation of the Commandments. Darker slants have been firmly nailed into place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	4– Remember the Sabbath Day, To Keep It Holy

n the morning light, Petros sat at a table, the sleeves of his simple undershirt rolled up to mid-bicep. On the surface before him sat his beloved lance. _Screamer_ had taken a literal beating the day before, battling that troublesome AX agent. Abel had proven formidable but it was the bravery displayed by the child vampire that had seized Petros’ heart.  
  
In the moments on the boat Abel had piloted, he’d been persuaded to aid the Earl of Memphis. It was the boy’s silent strength and his pledge to surrender himself to the Inquisitorial Department after his business had been concluded with Cardinal Sforza. And now, they were holed up in some random room while outside, Paula had taken it upon herself to declare Martial Law.  
  
Snippets of conversation floated over Petros’ head as he tinkered with his weapon. It was never meant to see water and after he’d retrieved it from the bay, he carried it back to the rented room, swaddled like a fallen child in his arms. Abel had passed him a sympathetic smile but remained silent, his vigil kept at the east window of the room. Esther attended the boy and Petros paused to pull his hair back into a loose tail before resuming his work.  
  
“Radu was like my brother, Esther,” Ion revealed, crestfallen and Petros lifted his eyes from the weapon to see the nun brush golden strands from Ion’s face, quietly cooing words of comfort to him. For a moment, Petros’ concentration retreated into the recesses of his mind, recalling when he’d lost one of his comrades in battle. Brother Aristandros and he had been engaged with a small faction of vampire insurgents and one of the sneaky bastards had gotten too close. Petros shivered with the memory of seeing Aris’ head roll toward him, brown eyes fixed in horror to stare back at him. He, like Petros, was only sixteen at the time.  
  
After that, Petros had been taken on by the Department of Inquisition and he made Bureau Chief before his eighteenth birthday. The accolades did little to comfort him. His friend and brother was still dead and no matter how much vampire blood stained his hands, it would never expunge his guilt. If he had been quicker– if he had watched Aris’ back better… the blame was always there to eat at him. And now, he betrayed his friend by helping this juvenile bloodsucker.  
  
Petros loosed a sigh and returned to the present. The boy _did_ offer himself willingly for custody when all was said and done and he supposed then Aris could properly be avenged. He replaced the main cylinder of the lance and tightened the hex bolts then tested the fittings, a smile ghosting across his thin lips as it spun on its bearings. The larger counter-cylinder fit around the smaller and again, Petros ensured it moved clockwise to the inner housing.  
  
Just outside, bells rang in the clear sky, calling the faithful to morning mass and Abel moved from his window. He cleaned the left lens of his glasses then pocketed the cloth and they resumed their place on the bridge of his nose. “How unfortunate,” he remarked and walked to the small refrigerator in the corner of the room. Gathering several bottles of water, he doled them out to the company, with an additional item for Ion.  
  
Abel placed a red capsule in the Earl’s palm with a soft smile then took a seat near Petros and opened his bottle. Petros quirked a brow at the man, wiping his soiled hands on a rag. “What’s unfortunate, Priest?” he asked and Abel licked a drop of water from the corner of his own mouth and passed him a sheepish smile.  
  
“It’s Sunday, of course,” he needlessly related and drew a finger through the condensation on his bottle. “We’re missing _Terce_.”  
  
“Father, really,” Esther sighed and Abel shrugged, while Petros snorted.  
  
“We’re sheltering a vam– Methuselah and you’re worried about mid-morning prayer?!” he rejoined and tossed the rag onto the table in favour of the water bottle. Abel freed a nervous chuckle.  
  
“Perhaps we can get this unpleasant situation behind us in time for _Vespers_ ,” he hoped and Esther chose to ignore him, but Petros quickly waved a dismissive hand in Abel’s direction, a cursory ‘tch’ volleyed for good measure. Abel kept his own council and Petros kept his eyes on Abel. He himself had broken most of the commandments on occasions too numerous to count. God would just have to understand if he _kept the Sabbath_ by abetting a renegade priest, a daft nun and a vampire noble.  
  
He’d be sure to say a few extra Hail Marys later.


End file.
